The Reason Why You Should
by punyfairies
Summary: Letter drabbles. Each one starts with "The Reason Why You Should... from Nation A to Nation B". Random topics, crack fic :3 Can include anyone. Suggestions welcome!
1. You Should Not Come Over Anymore

**The Reason Why You Should Not Come Over Anymore – a letter by Austria to Prussia**

Mr. Weilschmidt,

I must admit, my heart almost failed me when I saw you beside my most beloved Klavier.

With an axe in your hand.

Gilbert, did you think it was funny to do so?

I had that piano custom-made in Poland, where Chopin was born. I even got special permission from Feliks to remove the cast of Chopin's hand, and then got England to bless the piano with it. Did you know how hard it was to get that permission? Feliks may be frivolous, but deep down he cares a lot about Chopin, and I only got him to agree to it after promising him that he could be on the cover of Vogue Austria.

I even engraved on the piano, in pure gold, "Österreich".

You can therefore understand my distress when you put it on sale on a silly little ad on Feliks' "The Awesome Show". I've had buyers calling me non-stop since the show aired—did you think I'd sell that piano for anything? I'd rather sell myself.

And no, Gilbert, that does not mean I want to sell myself to you.

Furthermore, Gilbert, what bothers me about this whole thing is, couldn't you have picked someone who can at least defend himself?

My poor piano, unfortunately, does not fall into that category. After all, one cannot seriously expect a defenceless piano to fight back, which is why I think you holding an axe over the darling thing is especially deplorable.

Gilbert, it is with great distress that I write the above. Thank the Lord I happened to be there, or else I think I would have died from a heart attack upon seeing my Chopin-blessed Klavier in shambles.

Also, how could you possibly think I would go out for a drink with you afterwards? As I'm sure I told you countless times before, I will not "get drunk" with you.

In fact, how about you stop getting drunk? Every time you get drunk, you somehow end up at my place. Now, I wonder, is your body somehow programmed to walk here every time you get into trouble? Because just a few days ago, when you tried to partition Poland again, you somehow managed to run here and I had to deal with some very unhappy people.

The next time you get into trouble, will you please, _please_ at least run somewhere else? Say, have you ever considered going to France instead? Turkey works just fine too.

And Gilbert. Since that unfortunate moment that we met each other 1,109 years, 5 months, 13 days, 26 minutes, and 31 seconds ago (as of this moment that I am writing this), you have broken or damaged approximately 12, 453 glass vases; 5, 422 violin/viola strings; 63 pieces of antique furniture; 194 art pieces; 49 sculptures; 9, 022 carpets/tablecloths/such; and the emotional well-being of 245, 021 people. But who's counting?

I shall have a bill sent to you by the 16th of next month.

In addition, it is considered rude to "visit" me without notice. It is considered especially rude to "visit" me in my bedroom.

Shoving me to the ground and then touching me to "make sure I was okay" is utterly unnecessary.

Ditto trying to take all Hungary's frying pans, and then blackmailing her into blackmailing me to hand over Austria, and then allying with Ivan to take over the world. That is very unnecessary too.

Gilbert, please. Just don't try anything, okay?

I've already filed a restraining order, put your name on the blacklist of every household in Austria, put warning posters with your face on them all over the streets, _and_ gotten police people to frequently make rounds. What must I do before you will get the message?

I swear to god, if I catch you with an axe over my piano again…

Gilbert, just don't. I'm begging you. Please.

Please also refrain from coming over. For my sanity's sake.

Sincerely (I do mean it),

Roderich Edelstein.

P.S. I am very flattered to hear that you "visit" so much because of my sweets. I shall then send a box over to Ludwig's house every Saturday (so you do not have to trouble yourself with coming here, see). You can expect it to arrive tomorrow, along with this letter.

* * *

I just suddenly had an image of Gilbo holding an axe over Austria's piano for some reason.

Oh and. They DO have a cast of Chopin's left hand in a museum in Poland. It's really pretty! As well, the "ad" Roderich talks about on "The Awesome Show" -that's all part of my "Director Hungary Shoots a TV Show" fic.


	2. You Should Ditch That Loser Already

**The Reason Why You Should Ditch That Loser –from Gilbert to Elizaveta**

Yo, Hungary:

Unlike a certain somebody who sent me something so wordy it is a violation of my human rights, I'll keep this short and sweet:

Get away from Roderich.

I'm serious. That guy has some serious issues.

**Issue #1: He refuses to chill.**

Okay, so I held an axe over his piano. Big deal. Besides, since it has been "blessed" by England, it is likely now cursed with the Curse of the Bugsby, or something like that. I'm doing him a FAVOR by trying to destroy it.

**Issue #2: He'd rather touch his piano than you.**

You might not believe this, but I did a little study of the last letter he sent me:

Word count: 710

Word count of him freaking out about his piano: 295

Percentage of letter that consists of him freaking out about his piano: 42%

There is something wrong if someone spends almost half of a letter talking about a stupid piano. You see, Elizaveta, THIS IS WHY I had to do it—axe his piano, I mean. He's way too obsessed with that thing. I'm doing you a favor too. If I destroyed it, then maybe he'll pay more attention to you instead. Yeah, I know, thank me later. I think you should be so thankful that you should kiss me the next time we met. Just a thought.

**Issue #3: He's so weird**

I think you've heard of his actions against me. You know, restraining order, blacklist, and all that good stuff?

But don't you think he's taking it too far with the warning posters?

Okay. I managed to get one of these during my last visit. It has my glorious face on it. But why would he cover up all that handsomeness with a giant red "x" and the words "RUN IF YOU SEE HIM"? It says that talking with me might result in damage in emotional well-being. Isn't he so weird, Elizaveta? **WHY** would he do that?

**Issue #4 He's so cheap**

He sent me a bill. He claims that I damaged 12, 453 glass vases; 5, 422 violin/viola strings; 63 pieces of antique furniture; 194 art pieces; 49 sculptures; 9, 022 carpets/tablecloths/such; and the emotional well-being of 245, 021 people.

First of all, I'm sure he made all that up. Sure, I occasionally snap a string or two, but this bill is surely just a ruse so he can earn more money.

But you know what the funniest thing is?

Right after listing all those numbers, he says, "but who's counting?"

Duh. Isn't it _obvious_ who's counting?

Elizaveta, I fear for his mental awareness. I think he may have gotten Alzheimer's. I think he counted all those numbers, and then FORGOT that he did, and got so confused that now he's asking_me_ who's counting. I know this really good doctor in Estonia, maybe we should go.

He also said that meeting me 1,109 years, 5 months, 13 days, 26 minutes, and 31 seconds ago (according to him) was very unfortunate. Although I suppose it's 1, 109 years, 5 months, and 14 days now (since he wrote the letter yesterday). Now, if he bothered to count every single beautiful moment that he had the honor to know the Almighty Me, why did he say it was unfortunate?

In conclusion, Elizaveta—Forget that guy. You can move in with me; I'm sure West won't mind.

You and I will have so much more fun together, yes? We'll get drunk and invade Poland and bother Lithuania. Now, doesn't that just get you so excited?

I have to go because West found out that I stuffed the dirty laundry under his bed. Later!

Love,

Gilbert


	3. You Should Stop Hugging Me

**The Reason Why You Should Stop Hugging Me – Germany to N. Italy**

Dear Feliciano,

How are Antonio and Romano? I hope your visit has been pleasant.

More importantly, have you done the 20 push ups, 50 sit ups, 100 jumping jacks, and the 30-minute weight lifting sessions that I told you to do daily?

You haven't done them, have you? Don't lie to me. I knew you would just stuff your face with pasta and Antonio's tomatoes.

Make sure you do them from now on, okay? I don't want you to come back all soft and wobbly, because as soon as you come back we're starting training again.

So, Feliciano—there is an issue I feel that I must discuss with you.

Remember the day when my boss came over? No? Well, it was the day that you made me triple-cheese lasagna. Ah, now you remember.

Then, do you remember what you were doing when my boss came in?

Yes, Feliciano. You were hugging me and telling me that you loved me.

My boss wasn't very impressed, as you can probably understand.

Feliciano, I know you're going to cry now. Stop crying, or you'll stain this letter.

Feliciano, you have to understand that it's not _me_ who minds—

It's not that I don't enjoy being—

See, I'm not saying hugging and kissing is bad—

No, it's not that I don't like you—

Yes, it's good that you show how you feel about me—

Feliciano. Just please refrain from doing so in the public.

Remember the last world conference we went to?

That was not an appropriate place to kiss me and say, "Germany~ I love you~". Do you know how much snickering I had to go through afterwards? It was especially bad because Hungary managed to take a picture of it and sent it to Poland and Lithuania's talk show. Then it showed up on every newspaper in the world, with the headline, "Wedding Bells Are Ringing!" Then your brother came over, crashed all my bottles of beer, trashed all my potatoes and sausages, and screamed, "I WILL NEVER LET MY BROTHER MARRY YOU, YOU POTATO-BASTARD!"

This is just one example of how things can get out of hand rather quickly in this insane world that we live in.

You shouldn't hug me when we go out and visit other people either. Why? Well. Remember that time we went to visit Roderich? I still don't understand why you had to pick that exact moment to jump on me and say, "Germany~ Let's go home, let's go home!"

Well. My brother Gilbert decided to show up precisely at that moment, and he has been teasing me ever since about what you wanted to do at home that made you so anxious to go there.

Besides, don't you have your own house too? Then, perhaps you should stop referring to my place as "home" all the time, even though you do happen to live here  
everyday—

sometimes—

once in a while. Yes, that's right. Once in a while.

It was not fun to sit through a 20-hour meeting with my boss about the impropriety of work relationships, and how Germany needs to keep up a tough, manly image, etc, etc. either.

Look, I know you didn't mean it okay? Just like you don't really mean to get into trouble every other second so I have to go and save you…

Wait a minute, Feliciano. Are you in trouble right now? I somehow have a very bad feeling. You're not in trouble right? Oh my god. You're in trouble.

DON'T WORRY. I'M COMING. STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE. DON'T MOVE.

—Germany

* * *

This is the result of me needing some fluff in my life.

Requests are always welcome.


	4. You Should Stop Getting Drunk

**The Reason Why You Should Stop Getting Drunk – Alfred to Arthur**

Arthur,

I hope you're sitting on your bed, dying and having the worst hangover of your life.

After what happened yesterday, I feel that as the global ambassador of everyone's well-being, I have the duty to write this letter.

First of all:

_Why _is it that you always get the idea that you can get me drunk every quarter of a century or so? I thought that we already established since the first time that you can't.

Remember that first time in 1776? I believe the damage you caused was so extensive that your beloved King grounded you for a couple of months. Wait, you were actually "sick" during those months? Oh, I'm so sorry!

Yeah, right. Next thing I know, you'd be telling me that burgers aren't delicious at all.

And then there was that time in 1801, in which the bartender threw you into a moat full of crocodiles. Were you "sick" after that too? My most sincere apologies.

Of course, there was also that time in 1826. And 1851. As well as 1876, 1901 (You ruined my big turn-of-the-century party. Thanks.), 1926, 1951, 1976, and 2001 (My turn-of-the-millennium party was also ruined. Thanks a lot.)

For the complete record of the events that occurred in the above dates (Sorry. The CIA keeps records on absolutely _everything_), please find Francis. He said that he needed the record to complete his research on "Nation Behaviors While Drunk", and of course I gave it to him in the name of scientific research. I even gave him all the photos, interviews (you know, with the angry bartenders?), and recordings of the above events while I was at it, and Francis promised that he would put these into very good use. He asked me if I would let him publish them, and of course I said yes. All in the name of science, don't you agree, dear Arthur?

Anyway. After that 2001 episode, I seriously thought that it would be over for another quarter of a century. You know, I even had a "No-Drunk-Arthur-for-Another-9125-Days" party.  
No alcohol allowed, of course. That didn't stop Gilbert from illegally importing German beer, though, but that is another story for another time.

Arthur, it's been 233 years. So I left you to live somewhere else. Big deal.

And I only did that because you told me that babies came from fairies.

It was not pleasant (read gross, mind-blowingly disturbing, scarred for life) to learn about that matter from Francis.

Yes, that's right. Now you see why I _had_ to leave you. I'm sure you would have done the same. Seriously? Fairies?

Or if you can't forget about it (I know, losing the brilliant me must have been so heartbreaking), can you at least show it in a more…sober way, perhaps?

Because, Arthur, I'm so sick of murderous bartenders suing ME to pay for the damage that YOU caused. And, dear lord above, you were always too smashed to realize how painful it was to get someone to take care of you afterwards.

Take, let's say, yesterday as an example.

Fortunately, I was able to get you out before too much damage was done.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get you out before your incoherent gibberish was heard.

"Alfred~ I can't believe you! I c-can't believe you did that to me, and then you just LEFT like a h-heartless little womanizer…Oh, the horror! After everything I did to make you happy, all you do is c-cause me pain and suffering…"

Sadly for me, someone called the police because he thought I abused you. Or raped you. Yeah. This morning I woke up, and guess whose picture showed up on the "FBI's Most Wanted" list, with the following description: _Tall, Blonde Male, around 20 years of age, with glasses and suspicious-looking hair. Wanted for sexual abuse. If seen, please call 911._

Thank the Lord that I was able to get Ludwig (and his manly muscles) to convince the police that I am utterly innocent.

So, after I ran away from the police siren with you in tow (I really just wanted to leave you there, but who knew what else you would tell the police?), I tried to find a place to set you down. I write the following to make sure once and for all that you know exactly how much trouble I went through.

I tried to go to Poland. But he said something to this effect: "EH~ Like, no way! He'd totally throw up on my gorgeous pink toilet with fuzzy blue seat-warmer, and then I'd _die_ of barfness."

Lithuania wasn't home. Latvia and Estonia weren't home either. I had a very bad feeling about this, but of course I had to put the stupid you somewhere before I could go save the rest of the world in a heroic fashion.

Germany was too busy with taking care of Italy, Spain ditto, and Hungary was too busy getting Austria and Prussia to…do stuff, so I then tried Sweden.

He took one look at you and told me that he's very sorry, but Hana Tomago has just caught the plague and he was too busy taking care of that. Then you decided to use every single one of your more…colorful cursing phrases at me, and that was when Sweden decided that he had enough and slammed the door, mumbling something about us being bad influences to his wife.

Hoping against all odds that Switzerland had suddenly become a fluffy bunny, I started venturing there, only to discover the hard way that no, such a thing would never happen.

At one point, dear Arthur, I was thinking that maybe I should just throw you at France's place since I imagine he'd be more than happy to take you in, especially since you were in  
such a…vulnerable state, but, well…

At least you raised me once. I didn't want to be heartless.

Thank the heavens that Mark, for the love of your Queen, finally took you and sent you back to your miserable little island.

If the above isn't sufficient enough to convince you that you should NOT DRINK under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, then heaven help us all.

The next time I receive an invitation from you, I'm hiding out in Sealand. If you dare try and find me there, I'll make sure that **Sealand gets recognized**. Is that understood?

Signed,

Alfred F. Jones

* * *

**Note: As I have said on my profile, I am retiring from fanfiction. I will **_**not**_** be updating anymore. **I have already put the status of my stories to "Complete".

Thanks to everybody who had read my stories and enjoyed them!


	5. You Should Totally Marry Me

Well. Turns out that 2 and a half years later since I last wrote a fanfiction, I was bored enough at work today that I did this.

* * *

**The Reason Why You Should Marry Me - from Belarus to Russia**

My most beloved and cherished brother,

How are you doing on this delightfully stormy day? You must be off chasing after that silly pansy Lithuania with a vodka bottle again. Of course, this is just a guess. It's not like I'm actually having people follow your every move or anything ridiculous like that.

Really, brother. Why do you enjoy going after those pathetic beings so much? What's so great about Estonia, Latvia, and that awful lovesick puppy Lithuania? What makes them more fun to be with than I, your most devoted sister, who loves you? We could be off assassinating some hapless fool together right now. For example, that annoying bumbling nuisance Lithuania. Does that not excite you?

As your fiancée, I feel that I must put a stop to the error of your ways. And what better way to do that than to get married married married? Although your reluctance to be united with I, your destined wife, baffles me, I will attempt to compile some reasons that we should be married right away.

First of all, I will protect you. Remember that time when Latvia and China were trying to rape you?*I shudder to think what would have happened had I failed to show up with my collection of 40 knives of various sizes and shapes. (By the way, if we get married, I will totally let you play with my knives. In fact we can use them in bed and everything, if you felt so inclined.) Once we get married you can be sure that your body will be totally safe from anybody else. Because if anyone so much as breathes on you, they will instantly die.

How, you ask?

Well, just trust me. I have my ways.

Secondly, every time you refuse to marry me, someone suffers unnecessarily. For example the last time you told me to wait (yesterday), all the flowers in that uncoordinated imbecile Lithuania's garden were found dead. The time before that (last week), that gutless weakling Lithuania's favourite pony plushie mysterious disappeared (I have heard that it's a gift from that cross-dressing freak, Poland. That brainless fool Lithuania claims to not like it, but anyone can see that he loves it).

Oh, of course I did not have anything to do with these unfortunate incidents, darling brother (how could you think that!), but surely it's God's way of telling you that we should get married. Should you continue to refuse, others will probably continue to suffer. Likely that unlucky idiot Lithuania. Again, this is just a guess, of course.

Lastly, my dear brother, I love you. I love you a lot. Surely you see that? I mean, last month I sent you my favourite knife as a token of my affection. _My favourite knife. _If that does not convince you of the depth of my love, I don't know what will.

Perhaps you would like my torturing device of choice instead?

Just tell me, anything you want, I will get it for you.

I hope you don't mind, but I have taken the liberty of booking your favourite church for our wedding happening a week from today.

I know that church is usually booked solid and require booking a year in advance, but happily for us, I talked to the priest in charge and after some convincing he very willingly gave us a spot. I would appreciate it if you did not press for details of the convincing process.

So what do you say? Don't worry about the wedding, I will take care of everything. I was ready for our wedding years ago. All you need to do is show up.

If you don't, well, let's just say I know where to find you.

Yours for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever -

Natalia (soon to be Mrs. I. Braginsky)

* * *

*See "Director Hungary Shoots a TV Show", episode 3

Also, poor Liet.


End file.
